


You made it

by kikiokikio



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikiokikio/pseuds/kikiokikio
Summary: I completed it on Sep 15th and later decided to translate it into English for practicing. It turned out to be a disaster :(看中文体验会稍微好些（昏迷。
Relationships: Neil & The Protagonist (Tenet), Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)





	You made it

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [你做到了](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26699260) by [kikiokikio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikiokikio/pseuds/kikiokikio). 



You were twelve, travelling in Bologna with your mum. A few minutes later, lost and alone. Also, chased by a portion of men in suits who seemed to belong to either Hollywood or Mafia.  
A man, like a protagonist of action movies, jumped from terrace. His Espresso destroyed his shirt and your knapsack. Without a word, he grabbed your bag and steered you to a horrible marathon. You run through the old town, galloped on the endless portico, and finally, thank god, got rid of stalkers at the third church.  
Both of you gasped in relief, hands setting on knees to support the out-of-energy body. At that moment he noticed that one of your shoes missed. The sock of right foot was stained by dirt and blood, which was literally miserable. He frowned, with nervous and ashamed feelings in eyes. Apologizing sincerely, he bent down to check your sole.  
After puzzle, panic and excess adrenaline, an ankle in a stranger hand, you put on a stupid smile. Flushed cheeks and messy hair made you increasingly stupid. It didn't matter. Inexpressible happiness filled your young heart. It was like you had been expecting for a long long time and would wait in the very last dusk. You didn't know what it was, but the instinct told you it was awesome.  
Therefore, you grinned to this man, "I am Max." You asked, "Your name, stranger?"  
  
You were thirteen, managing to survive from the flood of people in Camp Nou. This is the first time Messi, of course as an enemy, returning to Barcelona after transferring. You couldn't be able to classify the surrounded people as screaming Messi fans, or yesterday-once-more Blaugrana, or heartbroken Messi-fan Blaugrana. It was said that thrilled audience induced a quake in Camp Nou because of the remontada in 2017. You could imagine the sensation at that time.  
Popcorn and confetti tangling with hair, your head was attacked by trumpets more than once. You shouldn’t have agreed to come with your classmates. Now it was impossible to find them in the ocean of fans. The shout almost blew your brain out, meanwhile the red and blue murdered your sight. You were absented minded, nearly falling on the old man in front of you.  
Someone held your arm, which avoided the headline news such as "an eighty-year-old fan couldn't stand the enthusiastic hurricane of a young man". "Thanks." You turned to him, then beamed like a puppy who fetched his frisbee, "When did you come?"  
His suit wrinkled due to the crowd, with a tint of burger sauce on lapel. You picked a piece of red scrap from his beard and stole his thunder, "Be careful." Sounds seriously.  
He rolled his eyes.  
  
You were fourteen, staying with your American cousin to escape the summer heat. Constant rain and wet air led to an extremely sleepy boy, “Now I would rather be burned by sun in Kansas. The only thing I get in Fox is eczema."  
With the help of a tree next to your bedroom, he went through window of the third floor in midnight. Chocolate skin and CIA skills contributed to the quiet movement in the dark. You were impressed. Then he dragged you from your lovely bed and promised a night tour. At first, he wanted you to go downstairs and sneak out the gate, however, you were more interested in his method. "I haven't climbed trees since I was ten."  
He couldn't refuse you. He never could. So, he returned and waited under the tree.  
Following his hints, you climbed down step by step. It was not a hard task for you to complete. But you moved slowly and made mistake deliberately.  
You could saw him everytime you lowered your head. As always, he watched carefully in case you dropped or broke. The moment you stepped on the grass, a weird thought came up. What if I fall down? You mumbled unconsciously.  
He looked into your eyes and fiercely rubbed your hair, which physically stirred your inner world. "Stop…” You shove him away, but it was too late. Thank him, your hairstyle was an unrecoverable mess.  
You snorted, "Well, Edward·Cullen, you will drive me to Port Angeles, won't you?"  
  
You were fifteen, watching fireworks in Darling Harbor. On an ordinary Saturday night, an elder couple sat beside you. The husband was on the back stair, while the wife leaned in his arm and blissfully whispered. The fireworks brightened their grayish white hair.  
Your sleeve was pulled slightly. The mysterious old friend told you to leave. "I wanna stay." You tilted head innocently, "I believe you can solve this. You can, right?" You didn't realize your tone was just like Kat.  
He had no choice but walked into the crowd. Without shriek or riot, you knew he handled the anonymous raiders. When you counted to three hundred and sixty-five, he came back to you, wiping his coat well. He could tell that you were angry, by the way you were, whereas he didn't know why. The last rocket burst into numerous golden sparkles vanishing in seconds, leaving a thread of dark teal smoke.  
People gradually dispersed. The old lovers helped each other get up and walked to the outdoor cafe. But you two stayed, facing the empty dark sky with the smell of fire.  
"I want to know your real name." There was an amount of bitterness in your voice. You clenched the rail near the water, "You are not ‘Neil’. You need a second to reflect when I say this name."  
He didn't respond.  
You waited until the smoke spread, until clouds covered the moon. He patted your shoulder when you stared down on the ground.  
"Neil is the important one." He said.  
  
You were sixteen, experiencing the power of chili in traditional East Asia. After a quarter in toilet, you had to give up Chengdu cuisine sadly. Instead, you headed to KFC and politely rejected the chili powder offered by waitress.   
He sat down at the opposite side as you devoured ice cream. "Don't judge me." You felt gloomy, "You never understand how those delicious spicy foods canter in my digestive system."  
He raised his brow and took a sip of diet coke.  
Sundae, the combination of sugar and cream, made your teeth chill, which also comforted your heart that surrendered to chili. Licking your lips, you were satisfied with the sweetness and hummed in relax. He hummed as response. You made an annoying noise later. Then he followed. Well, a childish game was on.   
Unfortunately, guests nearby seemed to be disturbed by you two. He cleared the throat and stopped acting like a little boy. You kicked his shoes with a bit discontent, but he didn't kick back.  
The peaceful and harmonious atmosphere ended as soon as his real purpose exposed. He unpacked the pentagon wrap, that was the special supply in China, and put upside down. With one angle pointing to table, the wrap was lifted upward and its shape slowly coincided with your face.  
You threw a spoon of cream to him.  
  
You were seventeen…And you were in a coma. You were waked by the warm of burning wood, by the smell of milk and worn blanket. Sniffing, you moved your head. He glared you at the other side. You and he were separated by the firewood and a steaming pot. You guess he put on a serious-adult-mask just before you opened your eyes.  
You coughed and gave the foremost confession, "Mum didn't know I came here."  
He folded his arm. It was a little funny, for heavy coat provided by local was unfriendly to his elbow crease. However, as a prudent adult, he managed to keep his stiffest look. Well done.  
Understandingly, you buried your mouth in blanket and swallowed laugh, together with melting expression in your eyes.  
Thirty seconds later, he gave in due to puppy eyes and his chelidons which were about to be murder by thick clothes. He let out a resigned sigh and you imitated quickly.   
As he filled your bowl with ewe's milk, you began waffling, "You know, there is a rare blue flower that grows on the eastern slope. If you carry it to the top of the mountain, you may find…"  
  
You were eighteen, standing on the Cliffs of Moher. Under the cliff, tireless pale waves splashed on stone over and over again. Since there was a gun against your back, you raised both of your hands quite cooperatively. The attacker compelled you to walk ahead.  
"I may fall off the cliff." You replied casually. The man poked your spine with the gun. So, with a grimace, you strode forward hastily. In the blink of an eye, you were dragged back and collapsed on the earth. "It hurts!" You complained. He, the attacker, was hung upside down in your view, staring you in a despising manner. Wiping off dust, you got up with a smile, "So dangerous."  
You knew it was him that tried to test your reaction in danger, however, it turned out that you used the chance to test his reaction when you were in danger. Consequently, he was shocked by your move. And the only way to express his angriness was gazing you.  
You reached out your left hand, "Any gift for an outstanding graduate?"  
Sneering, he put the gun in your hand. Loaded, but safety on. You accepted and reached out your right hand.  
He was resigned and finally gave you his key chain.  
It was a metal circle with a red rope.  
  
You were nineteen, dating with library regularly. The printed documents were stained by coffee, which was conducive to your unpredictable spirit ranging from hangover to professionalism. It was the seventh time that you visited library this week. Obsessed with entropy and time, you planned a magnificent book list.  
The last big book had been borrowed already, and just like Moses parting the Red Sea, left a huge gap among those books. He greeted you from the other side of the shelf. You handed him half of chocolate bar through the gap. He frowned, but still ate it. Then he gave you a new candy bar.  
Thumb up, you pushed it, "Raisin?"  
He was accustomed and offer you a pack of dried grapes. Perfect. You filled your mouth with raisin and mumbled, "Someone has borrowed that work, the vital one. Damn, no soft copy." You looked over the author marked on your list, "Nolan…Christopher? Maybe Jonathan. I forgot. Why don’t authorize an electric version." You didn't seize the depression flashing in his eyes. When you talked to him, he buried the unusual expression and listened quietly. He was always a good listener. Thus, your trouble didn't matter anymore. You flipped a raisin aiming at his forehead and run away before he could catch you.  
  
You were twenty, bathing in the scorching sunshine in São Paulo. Fanning uselessly, now you were sure that the best way to enjoy Formula 1 was watching Sky Sports live stream. You two were like monks in meditation among those expectant fans.  
This time he chose T-shirt and jeans, which was a rare situation. You wore same as him and sweated as much as he did. Beverages yielded to the weather, bubbling wretchedly. You bought two cans of iced coke which were three times more expensive than usual. By taking a sip, you and he developed your souls in a breath, appreciating this high-quality happiness and neglecting the humming and clicking noise from engines.  
"Have you been circuit before?" You asked.  
He nodded.  
You plastered "why didn't you stop me when booking tickets" on your face. You had devoted yourself to library and lab for months and made a breakthrough at last. It was plausible to take a trip to award your tired body and mind. When you asked him about F1 circus, he said good. Good. An optimistic view. Consequently, you and him flew to Brazil, embracing muggy weather, clamorous audience, uncertain entertainment at Interlagos.  
He did come here in 2019. "Tow red cars collided. Out of race together." He said calmly, "I thought kids would enjoy furious scenes like that."  
People around you froze.  
You rubbed your face and warned softly, "We are sitting with Tifosi."  
  
You were twenty-one, completing all the course credits as rapidly as possible. Blindfolded, you threw a dart to the map. It picked Schwarzwald for you. Renting an RV in Stuttgart, you went on a road trip, and in the meantime, applied for a second degree in physics. Since the signal reception was incredibly poor, it took almost a century to upload your application. You earnestly applauded for your laptop as the email was sent successfully.  
Lying on roof of the RV, you counted stars in the sky, while he counted bullets in his bag.  
"Relax…" You were snapped by the sound of engine from the end of the path with harsh headlight. Stumbling back into the vehicle, you hit the gas and sped away. Then Fast & Furious began and developed as John Wick. The climax turned to Mad Max, with a salute to 007 in the end…You obtained an opportunity to drive Aston Martin for five minutes before the explosion.  
"Well, I didn't see that coming…" You were fluctuated.  
He shrugged. No one could see that coming. And he made a joke about how the time added uncertainty to one's life, which might be more than a joke. You couldn't tell the weight he put in those words. Anyway, it was not the priority at this moment.  
The RV sacrificed in gunfire and car race. You were on your own. After strolling two kilometers, you found a bike in the bush. Apart from the punctured tire and broken handlebar, the bike was almost supported by rust and dirt. Metal barely remained inside.  
You let him sit on the pillion and said, "I will ride for two-thirds of journey and leave one part for you…Ah, you know what, I can ride all the way, if you agree to share the loss of that RV."  
He asked you the price of the vehicle you rent in the town. Multiplying the price by ten internally, you spat out the fake number to frighten him.  
He was stunned, "This RV is for travelling on Mars?"  
You exerted yourself to move the rusty bike, laughing nearly out of breath.  
  
You were twenty-two, quarrelling with for the first time. To be more specific, it was your one-sided fury. Another assassin, an incident of project, the construction of inversion theory, an exposed Algorithm, and his silence. This time you realized who borrowed Nolan's work and understood what the silence was for.  
You requested, "Let me help you."  
"I've been trying so hard to avoid your help."  
You gripped him, looming over him. Now you were taller and your hands were larger, but the emotion in your eyes had never changed since the afternoon in Bologna, "What's happened, happened."  
He looked as if you reminded him of someone else, so you clutched his wrists tightly, ignoring the struggle. He was looking at you right then. You smiled back.  
He slouched, shoulders moving down. His pulse knocked your fingertips via the blood and skin, and finally synchronized with your heartbeat.  
"My friend." You whispered, "You are shaking."  
  
You were twenty-three, having the best year in your life. After finishing the dissertation, you worked with him for preparation every day and night.  
You spent such a long time with him.  
  
You kissed him at the age of twenty-four.  
He did completely not know how to react. The only thing he managed was uttering your name.  
"Call me 'Neil'." You continued in a gentle voice, "I want to be your 'important one'."  
  
.ti edam uoY  
  
  
  
END  
I decided to use the past tense, because as Neil said, what's happened, happened. And the past was the future, so the sentence was reversed in the end…  
The pentagon warp is called "嫩牛五方" in Chinese. Bombarded by memes, I cannot help but keep thinking the shape of the wrap and Pattinson's face…And some KFC in Sichuan do provide chili powder.  
There are stingers of Twilight and Batman Begins (directed by Nolan). Football and F1 are induced by hobbies.


End file.
